Best Intentions
by Leni
Summary: post Bad-Eggs. Genfic with BA thrown in. A quiet night at the Summers.


_**DISCLAIMER:** When you remember what happened after this, I have one word for you: JOSS  
**RATING:** Let's say that if Joyce had walked in, Angel wouldn't have needed to worry about W&H. PG-15, I guess.  
**TIMELINE:** post-Bad Eggs.  
**GENRE:** It'd be Fluff except I managed to beat in some plot (Just squint. For me?) I'd say General/Romance (B/A, W/X)  
**WORDCOUNT:** 2476  
**THANK YOU** to Dana, Kristi and Faith for the beta. hugs_

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**BEST INTENTIONS**

_by Leni

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_

The dry feeling in her mouth was the first thing she registered. Buffy furrowed her nose, surprised at the strange texture against it. Right afterward her body protested the awkward position. That finally moved her to open her eyes – and find an expanse of black greeting her. She twisted a little trying to push herself up even though a weight at her midside was restraining her. Her legs were dangling in free air, so she willed her hands to find a purchase on the surface she was leaning on. The surface protested.

"Hey there."

The voice calmed her instinctive alarm even before she acknowledged it. A hint of cologne hit her and the pieces quickly fell together in her mind. "I fell asleep."

"A couple hours ago," Angel answered. His hand moved to her hip to help her balance on top of him.

Buffy welcomed the help and settled into her former position, securely cuddled on her boyfriend's lap. Except that instead of supporting her forehead against his shoulder – his shirt had been the unknown material tickling her nose – she moved to face him. He was smiling down at her and, in a perfect world, she'd have no thought for the ruined make-up or the possibility of pressure marks on her skin.

"I didn't want to wake you up." He paused, moving his hand to a more neutral position. She was about to stand up pleading to freshen up, when Angel seemed to read her mind. "You look beautiful."

Buffy blushed and she unconsciously twirled the end of her shirt around her fingers, trying to come up with the proper answer. Not very often did Angel flatter her appearance outright. Normally he just complimented a new outfit in passing or mentioned the practicality of a particular piece of clothing. In fact, for weeks Buffy'd thought that her efforts were wasted. Willow had been the one to prove her the opposite.

The redhead had gaped in confusion when Buffy voiced her concerns after a training session. "Are you blind?" she had laughed. Giles had looked up at the sound and, realizing they needed privacy for this discussion, she'd dragged Buffy to the nearest restroom. After checking that they were alone, Willow had placed her friend in front of one of the mirrors. Buffy's reflection – disheveled hair, dressed in sweats and still flushed from the practice – stared back at them. "Look," Willow had pointed at the mirror. "You could go exactly like this to the Bronze tonight and Angel would have eyes only for you. Angel is…" Willow had shaken her head, trying to find the adequate phrasing for her observations. "I've watched you together. Angel acts like nothing else exists. You could be covered in… I don't know. Like that time with the Luiths, remember?"

Both girls winced with the memory. Buffy could still feel the gray remains of an eyeball against her cheeks and on her clothes. Not her finest moment, and she'd been beyond mortification when Angel had noticed the stains.

Meanwhile, Willow crossed her arms over her chest and nodded decisively to herself. "Yes. Even that night. I mean, you were a disaster. No offence, but you were. And he still couldn't keep his gaze off of you."

"He was just worried."

"That you'd been hurt?" Willow had raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Buffy, we'd just entered a nest of _adult_ Luiths and you were the most unharmed one. Worry?" Willow smirked. "That's not what I'd call it. Besides, on miniskirt nights? You can't tell me you hadn't noticed he always lets you go ahead." Her eyebrows had wiggled insinuatingly.

Buffy had laughed. "Will!" Then she'd smirked at her reflection and stood straighter. "He does, doesn't he?" And she answered her friend's satisfied grin across the mirror.

Still, Buffy hadn't believed Willow's words right away, afraid that the redhead's romantic views had skewed her opinion. But soon enough she'd had to surrender to the evidence. As silent as Angel stayed, he did notice her looks and, more importantly, he appeared to enjoy them. As the weeks passed, her boyfriend slowly loosened up. Now she heard the rare direct compliment, his voice low and always when they were alone. And yet at times like this, Buffy still hadn't learned how to answer. 'Thanks' sounded so trite and Angel tended to close off if she returned the favour.

As a compromise, she moved to kiss the nearest patch of skin at her reach, the hollow of his throat so conveniently uncovered by his shirt. "This is nice," she murmured, smiling as she heard his grunt of agreement. It really was. Both of them cuddling on her couch, with her comfortably settled on his lap across the seat. If this wasn't heaven, Buffy wasn't interested in it. She toed her shoes off and breathed out contentedly. This was truly one of the rare moments they'd been able to relax and enjoy together for days.

One hand was resting against his chest. Buffy watched pleasantly how her fingers contrasted against the black cloth. She lifted it slowly, the material wrinkling around her hand, then moved it back down and repeated the process. Angel's embrace tightened briefly in response to the caress and her own body pressed slightly against his. She let her fingers play with the button at the top, toying with the idea of loosening it. Blushing at the thought, Buffy finally remembered two very convincing reasons not to unclothe her boyfriend, not even partially. "And the guys?"

Angel furrowed his brow, confused – Buffy cheered innerly. He'd forgotten about them too! – then he raised his head and nodded to a point behind her. Buffy obediently turned, and nearly melted at the sight.

Willow and Xander were sound asleep on her sofa. Xander was sitting at the extreme of it, head thrown back over the back, with legs spread open and his arms loose at his sides; one hand reached unconsciously to Willow's midriff. Meanwhile the smaller girl was happily snoozing across the sofa, hands tucked together against her chest. She was resting her head on Xander's lap; her red hair looking bright against the boys' dark jeans.

"I need a camera," Buffy whispered, circling more fully towards her friends. She frowned when the sudden movement made something slip down her shoulders. She grasped it before it fell off completely, and momentarily forgot the Kodak moment before her when she recognized the leather under her touch. Now she understood why she'd been feeling so warm if tonight she'd worn just a thin blouse. "And this?"

Angel reached for the jacket and wrapped it more securely around her. "You looked cold."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "A girl could get used to this."

"Maybe she should." He smiled back, linking his fingers through hers.

She decided to show her appreciation with a kiss. Sweet and slow, it began deepening without their notice. Their hands loosened again, and he traced the lines of her palms with his fingertips. She leaned back for air and immediately her face heated at the memory of the sleeping teenagers some feet behind them. She twirled around guiltily, but was relieved when she saw that neither had even stirred at the display. To think Xander had just accused her of thinking only of making out with Angel. How smug he'd have been if he'd witnessed that! Buffy giggled at an unexpected realization. When Angel raised an eyebrow questioningly, she half explained. "It's a strange day when Xander hits the nail about you and me."

Obviously that explanation wasn't enough because Angel continued staring expectantly. Buffy realized she'd give herself up if she told the whole back-story, so she settled for a dismissive "Just something Xand' said earlier."

"Should I be afraid?"

Buffy chuckled, thankful that he wouldn't push. "Never," she said brightly, placing her hands over his and twining their fingers back together. And quickly changing the topic, "You also turned the TV off," she noted. "I guess the movie wasn't as interesting after all. And after everything Willow and I did to convince Xander!"

Angel smirked at the memory. Two headstrong girls against poor Xander. It had been an unfair fight since second one. But after watching the first twenty minutes, he'd wished he had sided with the boy. "Hmmm…"

Buffy swatted his shoulder. "You could at least pretend your girlfriend doesn't have bad taste."

"The movie was… interesting," he offered. "And you were all tired, too. It's been a harsh last couple of days." Then, remembering her earlier comment. "I thought your mother always took the camera with her?"

Buffy sighed in disappointment. "Right. Can't buy stuff for the gallery without studying the pictures first. Pity." She glanced back at the scene on the couch. "They look so cute together."

No answer was forthcoming.

She elbowed him.

"I guess," Angel grudgingly conceded.

"She really likes him," Buffy whispered, still looked at her friends. "I know you know that."

He nodded. "I doubt anyone's as blind as Xander in that respect." He circled her waist tightly, bringing her flush against him. "I also doubt anyone is as undeserving."

"Hey!" Too late Buffy realized that the new position refrained her from hitting him.

"Xander is the only boy she's interacted with; how's that fair?" She glared at him over her shoulder, and he dared to smile condescendingly. "Oh, I believe he loves her. In his own way."

Buffy perked up at that. It was interesting to hear him say the L-word, even if it wasn't in relation to her or their relationship.

"He's the kind that won't notice her until she's definitely out of his grasp," he finished.

Based on her own observations, Buffy couldn't deny that. "I wish you were wrong," she murmured sadly. "They'd be so good together."

"He'd break Willow's heart when he failed to be the dream boyfriend. And he needs her as friend far more than as a girlfriend." He chuckled darkly and tightened his hold on Buffy." Xander doesn't have the first idea what to do with one."

"But it would work in the end," she insisted stubbornly.

Angel frowned, worry replacing the ease of the past moments. "If he learns to truly appreciate her and she understands that he's no Prince Charming, maybe." He noticed she was still looking wistfully at the dozing couple. "But this is not about that. What's wrong, Buffy?"

"Nothing," she answered too quickly.

Angel leaned his cheek against her hair and caressed her fingers soothingly. "Nothing?"

"Just a silly thing," she admitted with a sigh. "It'd be easier if they hooked up. If… When, I mean. _When_ they meet someone else, fall in love…. They'll leave me, won't they?"

Angel considered that statement. "No," he decided. Buffy raised her eyebrows doubtfully, apparently reluctant to take his word. "Look. They've just spent days caring for sentient, evil eggs. They've fought a Bezoar momma and still found time to research those vampire brothers in between. Yet here they are, sleeping peacefully in your living room the next weekend." His voice let something like admiration slip out. "If they haven't run screaming by now, they never will."

Buffy's eyes turned hopeful as she weighed his words. "But…"

"They'll meet others," he interrupted her. "And bring them into the secret. Or maybe not. But leave you?" He signaled at himself and then around the entire room. "Look at us, Buffy Summers. We are chained to you."

She smiled tentatively. "We?"

Angel nodded.

"They won't abandon me?"

He looked at the teenagers in front of him, barely out of childhood and with so many problems and flaws. Yet only in them would he or Giles entrust Buffy. A weird assortment of characters that would surely falter, but he sincerely doubted would ever truly fall apart. "I don't think they would be able to," he finally answered, considering himself lucky to belong with them.

"And you won't leave either." Buffy half-asked, very sternly.

As an answer he lifted one hand to her face, carefully pushing the loose strands of hair behind her ears. The back of his hand caressed her cheek, and he willed his 'never' to be clear in his look. Buffy blushed prettily, still so unsure when he focused on her this intently. Slowly he was raising the stakes in his compliments and his actions; waiting as she grew confident in them. But she was young, and time was all he had to offer.

Buffy felt the heat on her cheeks and lowered her head until it rested on his chest. She whispered his name, then braced herself and turned to kiss him over the cloth, along his right shoulder until it met his neck; then up his throat to his chin. Her kisses stopped, and Buffy realized her hand was now clutching the front of his shirt. She dropped it nervously, raised her head to apologise, or explain, or possible ask for the kiss he was gifting her with now.

It wasn't forceful, but deep and thorough, and she responded in kind. One hand moved to her nape, raising her closer into the kiss. The other she felt edging to her jeans' waistline, move past it under her shirt and finally stop against her side. There it stopped, wordlessly Buffy understood he was waiting for her consent. Startled as she was, she gave it, extending both hands over his shoulders and bringing him down to her. She didn't even think of stopping the kiss for proper words, but she tried to back down when his fingers covered her skin.

But Angel just followed her lips, sealing them to his again and robbing her of her remaining doubts. He teased every inch he found, caressing until it felt warmer and tighter, before moving to the next and beginning anew. Buffy moved in his grasp, turning against that sensation, and barely spared a thought to the jacket running down her back to the floor. She didn't need it anymore.

They followed like this until Buffy felt his touch traveling up her abdomen. Her body stiffened suddenly. The kiss broke. Her eyes opened wide, meeting his but not really seeing him, then lowered in wild confusion. Before she drew her next breath, all warmth was gone from her skin, his hand now safely back on her waist. With the other one he lifted her chin, his fingertips caressing soothing circles on her cheek.

She wanted to speak, but couldn't find any words. She wanted to laugh, and was horrified when she felt her eyes brimming with tears.

He kissed her one last time before tucking her head under his chin; now his hand caressed her spine unhurriedly. "What are you doing to me?" he muttered, his voice as bewildered as she felt.

'What am _I_ doing?' she wanted to say. Instead she told him the truth. "I don't know."

The End  
25/05/05


End file.
